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Monday, 17 October 2011

Modern 'Art'

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? Nope, it's modern art. Prepare for your fucking mind to be blown.

As the 21st Century bumbles along, there are several things that we urgently need to address in society to prevent us from certain devastation. We are in serious danger, for example, of fucking up our climate with global warming, for a while now we've teetering on the brink of being blown to bits in World War Three and if we're not careful, we may all be suffocated as we collectively disappear up our own assholes with the pretension of modern 'art'.

Take for example the above piece of 'art' created by Barry Flanagan, being displayed in the Tate this month... WHAT. THE. FUCK? I swear to fucking Lydia, this isn't a joke, this is actually being displayed as art in a fucking gallery. WHO WOULD BE SUCKED IN BY THIS?!?! Good old Barry must be fucking pissing himself laughing at the dickheads who brought this.... It's a pile of fucking sand! WHAT?!

I don't want to just pick up on this piece of shit, so let's look at some more. Next, the world famous 'My Bed' by Tracy Emin.

THIS IS NOT ART. What you've done here, is sleep in a bed and made a fucking mess. I knew a girl once whose bedroom looked like this. Piles of clothes everywhere, empty ketamine bags strewn all over the desk and a cat 'somewhere' in the wreckage. Was she an artist? Rather than slowly backing out of the door when she turned around, should I of dropped to my knees and applauded her bold statement about depression? Was she saying 'I am a product of my environment, I am depressed and this is my take on that illness?' No. She was just a lazy, disgusting, untidy fuck. Tracy Emin; This is not art. It's not even a thing. It's just your grotesque life moved into a gallery. I realise you've had a bad time of it and your depressed, but maybe if you tidied up your house and stopped living like a fucking pig, you'd feel better, yeah?

Ok, last one...

Above is 'Work No.227:The Lights going on and off' by Martin Creed. So basically, it's a room and the lights flash on and off intermittently... Wow, where to start.... I feel it's worth pointing out that this awful piece of shit actually WON the Turner Prize. Think about that for a second, it's not just art, it's AWARD WINNING art. At best this is an example of shoddy electrical workmanship, at worst it's a cunning trap for epileptics. THIS. IS. NOT. ART. YOU. PRETENTIOUS. FUCKING. CUNT. Seriously Martin, fuck your life.

The most annoying thing is that the artists of all these abominations will explain them away as something deep and meaningful with a message and snobby art cunts will listen. They'll marvel at the structure, the forms they take, the way it makes them feel and what it says to them inside. They'll stand around looking at them from all angles, squatting down to eye level with them and basking in their beauty and simplicity. They'll read in The Guardian how astounding they are and not wanting to be left behind they'll flock to the Tate and swoon of over the emperor's new clothes. They'll exit through the gift shop and buy postcard photos of them to take home and stick on their fridge full of fucking creme fraiche and organic apple juice. Mother. Fucking. Art. Cunts.

In my mind, art (and therefore artists) are divided into two very distinct columns.

One; Artists - People who can create things that others can't. Paintings, sculptures, drawings, anything that your standard mouth breather on the street wouldn't be able to replicate easily.

Two; Cunts - People that decide a real job is too hard for them and take a shit in a box and try to pass it off as a statement of the proletariat's struggle to be heard in today's overcrowded and over saturated society... Do one, prick.

Just because you own a camera, it doesn't mean you are a photographer. Just like owning a printer doesn't make you a printer, like playing in a punk band doesn't make you a musician and buying balsamic vinegar doesn't make you a fucking chef. I wish things were that simple, I do. I own a cat, I wish that meant I owned a Lion but alas, the world is not that fair. So just because you have a fucking art degree, it does not mean that you are an artist. Having been to a couple of 'End of Year Art Shows' I can confirm that Art Degrees are handed out like sweets at the dentist.

Sleeping in a bed, making a shit sand castle or flicking a light switch on and off is not art, you fucking prick.

5 comments:

Well Pete, this was a very passionate blog. But the truth is: you are right. I live in NYC and it prides itself on the remarkable accumulation of junk it has packed in MOMA, MET, private collections...parks, yes even parks. The downtown City Hall Park is truly fantastic for it never fails it surprise me. Every time I say to myself that this, the public art exhibition, cannot possibly get any worse - it does. Now here is something to look forward to! Rubens, Raphael, Rembrandt can't possibly compare to remarkable masterpiece, such as Warhol campbell soup painting! So, is he a Warhol or an Asshole. ALL OF YOU MODERN MASTERS OF ART THANK YOU FOR THE ENDLESS STREAMS OF GARBAGE!!!

Oh my God....when i was In the city of Bilbao in North of Spain, I went to Frank Gehry's constructed Guggenheim museum. one room had some christmas lights coming down from the ceiling. Apparently....This shit is identified as ART

so true, thank you for writing this! the same thing is happening in dance as well, people follow unnessary complicated manner of making work and showing the audience something they can't understand instantly. student productions are easier to understand but professionals are the worth. i seriously don't know where this world is heading to...